Tag Archives: Cadillac

Raindrops off Rooftops (day 2104)

Please don’t take my feeling
Down another empty highway
Like raindrops off rooftops
I’ve been splashing my dreams
All over you, girl.

I’ve found these dotted lines
With my blossoming feeling
As windshield blades swipe clean
My fogging dream, girl
Sweet reverie.

Silhouettes take my eye drops
Far from my Cadillac lollipops
Another roadhouse streetlamp
Flickering hope, girl
I’m taking the next pullout.

Feel in it; another crooked street
Turn me on with a vibrant song
Shake me by a gravity stick
Boom ba-da-boom-boom
And my song goes on.

Pizza For Breakfast Again (day 1821)

Keep your toes turned in
Don’t lose that anger
Don’t let go that deep down feeling
Where things just ain’t right
A delay
A mistake
A sideways glance
An avoided question
Remarks leftover with
Pizza for breakfast again.

One line doesn’t lead a road
A windy road
With seated tickets
Black fedoras
Bill folds
Cadillacs and
Pizza for breakfast again.

A mountain in charge of
Pioneers recollection
As fields reap harvest
And a bastard stands tall in
Sun beaten heartache
For a sister who loved him
In a town too small
Closed for business
Out of order
Dialtone on
Pizza for breakfast again.

’57 Appaloosa (day 1227)

Can you control my yelling as I short my conscience to your wedding?
-Laughing with the children blowing bubbles down by the pond-
I didn’t expect to see your friend Lucifer standing there
As I convinced you to drag the fresh linens through tumbleweeds of mystery
-It is the style, I explained bitterly through my clenched teeth-
Amazed to know you fret over the cake with your eyes opened so wide
Calming the sunshine with sips of refreshments from white dixie cups
-I chewed all around the top rim of mine, unable to resist the feeling-
Your sawdust left a trail for the onlookers to follow as you trailed off into obscurity
“Madness” they muttered under their breath directing their eyes to your mother
Her hands were boiling with innocence; a fools bargain at the end of the road
-My loaded shotgun wasn’t a toy gimmick to be taken lightly, though I held it so-
Even the village authorities didn’t know what to make of it all
Trained as they were in 39 different methods to disengage a situation
A calming hustle settled over the observers
-I came prepared with my gradient tinted aviators and beer cozy-
The ’57 should-be-retired Cadillac rolled on over the loose gravel
Unnerving the guests as her tumbleweed dress sat down amongst the tears and stains
Rat piss and shit and splintered deluxe leather upholstery
Sporting a vintage look you can only get from years of missing affection
-I couldn’t help but remark on the timing of it all-
Doorless I was on my sturdy ’94 Bronco, I still had a radio good for the local DJ
But oh was I jealous of the missing hubcap on that old Cadillac
Rattling free as they sped through the streets, top always down.. it was a ’57 after all
We all knew they were notorious for having glitchy automatic tops
Plus, the rust on that thing was shining so bright in that heathen sun
-I turned to the wild thing next to me, nearly popping out of her mid-twenties figure dress-
“Say Cindy-Lou, I’ve gotta cooler full-a-beer, two lawn chairs an’a good-ol-radio
Wanna grab my shotgun an’head on up to the ol’ mine and shoot the breeze?”
-I could see it in her eyes it wasn’t the beer she was after-
Her nose rings and solid gold spacers told me she liked firing shotguns
Wild women always had a soft spot in my heart
Their unnerving contradictions always dropped my caution to the wind
But I rolled out of there with my spirits singing about Friday nights
2 good speakers in the ol’ Bronco: front right and rear left
-I wasn’t spitting sin, I was just riding on the gin waves of the 1230 nuptialities-
So we left those 76 long jaw’d and sweating visitors at those old rodeo grounds
The automatic shifter kicked a bit as it shifted into third
But the dust wasn’t settled from the ’57 Appaloosa
Rattling down the never happier road to short lived elation
We turned right when they turned left
We headed higher as they got down; after all it was honeymoon season
In the land of Friday nights and worn out shotguns